


His True Love Was The C

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester Anniversary, Cowboy Hats, Fluff and Crack, Innuendo, International Talk Like A Pirate Day, M/M, Poor Sam Winchester, which gives Dean terrible wonderful ridiculous ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: Sam thinks it's just another Thursday morning in the bunker. What happens next will warm his heart. Mostly. Okay, at least a little bit.





	His True Love Was The C

**Author's Note:**

> September 18, 2018 marks the Ten Year Deancasversary. Ten years since Castiel, Angel of the Lord, gripped Dean Winchester tight and raised him from Perdition. Ten years since they met, and it took them this long to get themselves figured out...

It was arguably a lot to absorb first thing in the morning, but Sam was bearing up as well as could be expected under the barrage of unexpected declarations. Dean had strolled into the kitchen while Sam had been innocently making coffee, a cheerful bounce in his step and a grin the size of Montana plastered across his face. Sam’s first instinct was to brace for Dean luridly bragging about some hookup the previous night, but Sam knew for a fact that Dean hadn’t left the bunker. He’d been crashed out in the Dean Cave with Cas watching Black Sails when Sam had called it a night.

“What’s got you in such a good mood this early in the morning?” Sam asked, regretting the question as soon as it came out his mouth.

“I am a happy man, Sam,” Dean replied, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and setting them down on the counter to wait for the coffee to brew. “I didn’t believe it ten years ago, but sometimes good things really do happen.”

Sam frowned at him and then glanced down at not one, but two mugs that Dean had set down. In addition to the mug Sam had already fetched for himself. He looked back up at Dean, briefly entertaining but almost immediately dismissing the notion that if Dean hadn’t gone trawling the bars for a hookup, then maybe he’d brought some stranger into the bunker. But, no, Dean would never be so cavalier with their security. That left Sam wondering who the hell the second mug was for. He didn’t need to wonder long when Cas strolled into the kitchen, spotted Dean, and made a beeline for his side.

“Hello, Dean. Sam,” Cas added almost as an afterthought when he finally noticed Sam standing there as well.

“Hey, sunshine,” Dean replied, his grin laser-focused on Cas as he flung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close.

That easy display of affection would’ve been shocking enough in itself, but Sam stood dumbstruck as Dean then planted a kiss on Cas’s temple.  _ Beatific  _ was the only word Sam could come up with that came close to describing the look Cas gave Dean in return. In a morning filled with befuddlement, this was Sam’s first record scratch moment. It would not be his last.

Dean and Cas carried on chatting like nothing was amiss while Sam recovered from having his soul attempt to leave his body again. Sam willed the coffee maker to brew faster, because nothing was making sense yet and he was holding out his last hope that caffeine would have the power to restore the universe to rights. He picked up the occasional snippet of their conversation--  _ coffee’s almost ready, I was gonna bring you a cup-- _ but it seemed far too mundane for the surreal situation. By the time Sam was no longer at risk of unmooring from reality entirely, Dean and Cas had both shifted their focus around to him.

“You okay there, Sammy?” Dean asked, looking him over with concern.

Cas gave Dean a little nudge, reminding him that Sam’s state of shock at their easy display of affection was to be expected. They shared a long moment of their weird silent communication thing that was only weirder and even more uncomfortable than usual for Sam when combined with their sudden touchy-feely-clingy- _ apparently kissy _ behavior. Sam heard himself let out a raspy sort of groan as he scrambled to at least appear coherent in the face of whatever was going on here.

Dean took a deep breath and nodded in agreement at whatever brain waves Cas had transmitted to him, turning back to Sam. “Yeah, we kinda finally worked things out last night,” he began, giving a little smirk at the double entendre until Cas elbowed him in the ribs with a disapproving frown. Dean cleared his throat and went on, more demurely this time, to Cas’s apparent approval. “We had a long talk after you went to bed and finally got ourselves on the same page. It took us almost ten years, but we’re together now.”

Dean’s knuckles were white where they wrapped around Cas’s shoulder, and his smile had gone a bit rigid with stress. Yeah, it was a lot for Sam to process-- a major planetary realignment to adapt to. This went far beyond idle speculation over whether Pluto was a planet or not. This was like swapping out Saturn for Venus. It shifted the entire gravitational force of their solar system.  But Sam would never stand in the way of their happiness, and even if he didn’t fully grasp this unexpected shift, he could at least try to show his support. He blinked at the both of them for a minute and then finally managed human speech.

“So, you, uh… you’re both happy, right? I mean, wow. This is.. It’s big, and… wow. Congrats, I guess?”

Dean sighed with relief and his entire body visibly relaxed. Cas, too, which was weird, because Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Cas look relaxed, per se. Dean swung his free arm out and slapped Sam congenially on the shoulder.

“Yeah, we’re happy. It’s been ten years in the making.”

Cas smiled at Dean again with that glow of pure joy. “We’re not going to waste another day now that we know how we truly feel.”

The coffee maker beeped and Dean leapt into action, filling all three of their mugs and handing one to Sam and another to Cas. Sam stood there, clinging to the mug Dean had pressed into his hands, inhaling the steam and hoping the caffeine might make any of this more comprehensible. Unfortunately for him, he was already due for another record scratch.

“Yeah, we’ve already set a date,” Dean said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“A date?” Sam asked, seeing the answer coming like a freight train.

“We’re getting married,” Cas confirmed as the train barreled over him. “September 19.”

Sam stood there, torn between chugging down the entire too-hot contents of his mug or setting it down before he accidentally dumped it all over himself. He eventually compromised by slumping down into the nearest chair.

“Married? September 19? Isn’t that… that’s kinda soon, isn’t it?”

Dean shrugged, pulling Cas around to sit opposite Sam. Sam was grateful for the fact they each sat in their own chair, and Dean had to let go of Cas to do so. It made it a little easier to think clearly, not having to deal with the jarring image of the two of them being all squished together and so damn…  _ couple-y _ . Even if they were technically a couple now. Sam would have to ease himself into this strange new reality.

“Like I said, it took us ten years to figure it out, and we’re not wasting one more fucking day.”

“When you put it like that, we’re apparently wasting several weeks,” Cas pointed out. “September 19 isn’t until the Wednesday after next.”

Dean rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. “We talked about this, Cas. We waited this long, we should also do it right.”

Cas conceded the point and went back to sipping his coffee with utter contentment. Sam was left with nothing but more questions. Picking a place to start asking was no easy task. He decided to start off simple and work himself up to the bigger questions. He was about to learn that was his next mistake.

“What’s makes September 19 so right? It’s a Wednesday, first off.”

“Nothing wrong with getting married on Wednesday,” Dean replied. “Better than Tuesday, right?”

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together at the mention of Tuesday, but he shook it off and prodded Dean for a real answer. “But why the nineteenth?”

“Compromise, Sammy.”

“I raised Dean from Hell on September 18th,” Cas began, before Dean interrupted him.

“But I don’t  _ remember _ meeting you until it was technically the twentieth. So, compromise. We split the difference and get married on the nineteenth.”

“I told you I’d be amenable to wait until the following day,” Cas countered. “Not only is it the date you recall meeting me--”

“And shooting you, and stabbing you,” Dean interrupted, but Cas quelled him with a glare. Dean held up his hands in surrender, but he’d amused himself and looked as if he’d still accepted it as a win.

“But I am the angel of Thursday, so it would be more than appropriate for us to enter an eternal union on the day I govern.”

“You’re barely an angel anymore, Cas. And I don’t see you lording it over every Thursday or anything.”

Cas grumbled at that but didn’t make a real effort at arguing Dean’s points. He just went back to sipping his coffee. Sam couldn’t see what was going on beneath the table, but he sincerely hoped that the way Dean’s shoulder was moving was due to his hand rubbing against Cas’s knee in a comforting fashion and not… anything else…

“We agreed, we’re turning this into a three day love fest, right? September 18 is the day you remember meeting me, September 20 is the day I remember meeting  _ you _ , and September 19 is just sitting there begging for something special too.”

Cas took a deep breath and then smiled at Dean. “That is a nice way to think about it, yes.”

“But the clincher is the nineteenth is Talk Like A Pirate Day, mateys. We can’t pass up the chance to have a pirate themed wedding,” Dean said, putting on a fake pirate accent and sneering at Sam like he was thinking about calling him a landlubber and ordering him to swab the deck or walk the plank.

Sam still hadn’t managed to take a sip of his coffee. It sat on the table between his hands, daring him to pick it up. He would’ve either burned himself or asphyxiated himself by now if he’d tried sooner, and at the rate his morning was going, he’d sooner just wait for it to turn ice cold so he could drink it through a straw. Maybe he should just go back to bed and try again in an hour. Maybe he just woke up in the wrong universe, or maybe he was still dreaming. That could explain a lot. Instead of letting himself fall down one of those rabbit holes, he attempted to engage with the situation at hand as best he could, beginning with his coffee. Coffee was easy. He could handle coffee. He took a long drag of it and set the mug back down safely before attempting any further communication. The caffeine, sadly, didn’t help much.

“Pirate theme?” he said, his voice pitched only slightly higher than he would’ve liked.

“Avast, matey,” Dean replied cheerfully. “We’ll drop anchor at the courthouse and swash some buckles. Then we’ll raid the main and sail home to raise a mug of grog and plunder some booty. Aarrrrrrrr.”

Sam was speechless at that, but the look on Cas’s face spoke for him.

“Dean, that was unnecessarily crude.”

“What, pirates were unnecessarily crude. It’s part of the fun of it.”

Cas tilted his head in Sam’s direction but kept his eyes on Dean. “I think you’ve traumatized your brother.”

Dean glanced over at Sam and then back to Cas, only slightly repentant. “He’ll get into the spirit of things once we get him in costume.” He turned a grin on Sam, who was still sitting there rigid, wishing he could get a do-over on the last five minutes of his life. “We’ll even get you a parrot to sit on your shoulder, if you want. Or maybe a monkey, like that one in Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“That monkey was a scoundrel,” Cas replied. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let a monkey loose in the bunker.”

“Not a  _ real _ monkey, Cas. Like, a stuffed one.”

Cas considered this seriously, and eventually accepted Dean’s reasoning, as if it all made perfect sense. Sam, on the other hand, was still stuck back at the whole wedding concept in general. He was reserving the pirate shit to have a breakdown over at a later date.

“Guys?” Sam finally managed, interrupting their conversation. When he had their attention, he gave them the most solemn look he could muster under the circumstances. “I’m really happy for you both.”

Dean beamed at him and then at Cas. Cas beamed right back at him. They were already gravitating dangerously toward what Sam feared was a public display of affection he wasn’t sure he was ready for yet, so he cleared his throat and got their attention before they started sucking face like a couple of barnacles right there at the kitchen table.

“I’m really happy for you, but this is a lot to take in. Do you think we could maybe hold off on the party planning until I’ve had a chance to... wake up a bit?”

Sam already hated the twinkle in Dean’s eye and knew he was about to regret all his life choices, but he sighed and let Dean say his piece.

“Aar, are ye begging for quarter before we parley?”

Sam mightily resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead kept them fixed on Dean. He replied in the driest, flattest tone of voice he could manage. “Aye, I’ll be in my bunk until such time as you scallywags care to parely in modern fucking English.”

Cas looked at Sam rather pityingly, but nodded. “I’ve been trying to get him to stop for the last four hours.”

Sam groaned and stood up, taking his coffee with him. “Maybe get him to watch a cowboy movie or something. At least all the howdys and pardners and buckaroos would change it up a bit, even if it doesn’t cancel out the pirate crap.”

“Hey,” Dean said, but nobody was paying attention to him anymore.

“He did promise to let me wear his cowboy hat later.”

Dean’s face shifted from righteous indignation into an anticipatory leer faster than Sam had been prepared for. He fled the kitchen before he could be forced to witness anything else potentially scarring, and wondered how in the hell he’d survive the next few weeks. Maybe he should stock up on grog.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a warm-up fic for the Big Day, and I've written a much more serious post for the 18th, but I was talked into writing this one by the lovely folks on the Pinefest Discord chat. I hope y'all enjoyed the silliness in the spirit of my [Three Day DeanCasVersary](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/129360374055/the-three-day-deancasversary) post over on the tumbls. :)
> 
> Speaking of the tumbls, you can find me there as [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com), and a direct link to the post for this fic [here](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/177811213550/rated-t-words-24k-tags-fluff-and-crack-poor).
> 
> By the way, the title is inspired by a ridiculous pirate joke Jensen's told at least twice that I've heard. What's a pirate's favorite letter? You'd think it would be AAARRRRR, but it's really the sea. And for about 2 1/2 seconds I considered working in a subtitle about the D, but this is a family-friendly fic, mostly... unless the family in question is Sam... poor bab. :')


End file.
